My Little Harem - Hypnosis Is Magic

“My Little Harem: Hypnosis is Magic”

Part I – Wrong Place, Wrong Time

“Oh, muffins!”

Derpy cried out as her hooves tangled and she went down hard, right into an overlarge puddle of mud. Trying to save her packages, at least, she tossed her mailbag to safety a split second before landing with a dirty splash. Spitting mud out of her mouth and rubbing her eyes, she popped up, shaking excess liquid off of her dull gray coat.

At least it isn’t still raining, she thought, opening one eye cautiously. With her vision at least clear of mud for now, she finished scrambling to her hooves, looking around frantically for the mailbag. When she spotted it, Derpy let out a theatrical groan, thudding one hand against the center of her forehead.

The letters and packages had, at least, been spared the mud. But Derpy had forgotten to shut the bag securely when she had left her last delivery spot, and her wild toss had ended up strewing her day’s deliveries all over the road. And this far out on the outskirts of Ponyville, there was no one to help her as she flitted about, gathering them up and socking them haphazardly back into the bag. She didn’t have time to waste, not wanting the deliveries to soak up too much water. Boxes and envelopes flew willy-nilly, Derpy wasting little time in gathering them back up.

Panting heavily, she grabbed one last box. Turning to toss it back into the bag, she froze with another groan. The label had come off of this one! Without that, there was no way to tell who it was supposed to be delivered to – and Derpy certainly wasn’t going to peek at anyone’s mail! Peering around frantically, the gray mare poked and prodded at the ground and surrounding bushes, searching, searching…aha!

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Derpy found the missing label, snagged on a particularly long branch. Carefully extricating it, noting that this package was Rarity’s in the process, she affixed as best she could back to the box. Wincing at how unprofessional it looked – the box, not to mention the label, was scuffed and dirty from its impromptu spill – Derpy reminded herself to apologize to Rarity. A lot. Maybe she’d even bake her some muffins to make up for the bad delivery…

“I really wish Zecora lived closer to town,” the gray mare muttered, blinking owlishly, trying to bring the road back into focus as she tucked the box away. Squinting, she took off, a bit more carefully this time, taking care to avoid any more mud. She had quite enough of it drying on her clothes already.

Left behind, a second label, addressed simply to “Twilight Sparkle” in grandiose, flowing script, lay abandoned. Once the rain started again a few moments later, it quickly disintegrated, its pieces floating away, unremarked and unmissed.

Humming, Rarity whisked the front door of the boutique open just long enough to snag the mail bucket before shutting it against the downpour. She had seen Derpy approaching through the window, running through the rain and getting soaked to the bone. Rarity had thought to offer her a momentary shelter from the storm, but the mailmare was too quick for her. Before she could start for the door, Derpy’s mismatched eyes had caught hers through the window, and with a quick mouthing of “Sorry!” she had tossed Rarity’s mail onto the stoop and bolted onwards.

She wasn’t sure why Derpy felt the need to apologize – the rain was hardly her fault! – but Rarity appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Wet mail wasn’t the end of the world, even if it did make the floor a bit sticky where it dripped. Shaking her head, the white mare floated the dripping mail bucket as quickly as she could to a handy sink, letting it settle there and drip-dry while she rifled through for anything important.

The latest issue of Empire Fashion was in there, but Rarity wasn’t too eager to see what the seamstresses of the Crystal Empire had come up with this time. Too much flash, not enough substance, she thought with an unconscious sniff. Nothing else seemed urgent or interesting, except…

Frowning, Rarity levitated a battered, bruised box out from the rest of the mail. Odd, she didn’t remembering ordering any packages – but then, she was a busy mare, she thought with a shrug. Probably just supplies for the shop, unless Sweetie Belle had been sending away through those ridiculous “fashion filly” magazines again. Rarity bristled at the very thought, her sister ordering some anonymous, unknown designer’s latest dreck when Rarity would be more than happy to make her a dress anytime, anywhere!

Fillies will be fillies, I suppose, Rarity thought with a sigh. Grabbing a towel, she did her best to dry the box, hoping whatever was in it hadn’t been ruined. Once it was clean enough, she put the towel aside and placed the package on the counter, using magic to slit it neatly open. Unfolding the top and smoothing the flaps down, Rarity raised an eyebrow at what was inside.

It was a candle. Why it was a candle, Rarity was unsure – she hadn’t ordered any lately, and she didn’t remember any of her friends mentioning they needed to offload them. Reaching into the box carefully, the white-furred pegasus lifted the candle out, turning it over in her hands. Nothing about it was out of the ordinary – it was purple, like her hair, but the candle also had quite a gaudy pink stripe curling around its stem and Rarity was fairly certain she wouldn’t be caught dead with that particular affectation. Still, she supposed that what made a candle special wasn’t in its looks, but rather its scent.

Returning to the box, she checked the flaps and sides, eventually finding the label. Unfortunately, it was a dead end. The rain had done quite a number on it, and while she could still make out her own name in running letters, the name of whoever sent it was completely obliterated. She spent a moment longer pondering, before shrugging and mentally tossing aside the seemingly unsolvable mystery. Hopefully whoever sent it to her would ask after it, and then she’d be more than happy to let them know it arrived safe and…well, more-or-less sound. Until then, however, she had a boutique to run!

A few minutes later, it was nearly opening time, and Rarity had completed her morning checklist. Left with a bit of spare time, she looked around for something to occupy herself, and spotted the candle, still sitting on the counter where she’d left it. Normally she wasn’t much for scents in her store that she didn’t carefully pick to synchronize with her own fashion and wares, but she had to admit, she was more than a bit curious to see how it fared. The customers might appreciate something out of the ordinary too, she thought, her horn lighting with magic. Best to test it out before they arrived, though, and to that end the blue glow of her power surrounded the candle momentarily, before with a quiet pop! a flame burst into being at the end of its wick.

A thin wisp of smoke started to curl upwards, and Rarity leaned in slightly, breathing deep. At first, she only continued to smell the usual aroma of her boutique – the wonderful scent of new and beautiful clothes foremost in her nostrils. Then she got the first whiff of the candle. Her nose twitched, because surely –

The second time she scented the candle, she nearly gagged. By reflex, a hand came up to cover her mouth, and her horn suddenly blazed with light, instantly snuffing the candle. She waved away the scent as best she could with her other hand, changing the target of her magic and floating the candle back to the sink before unceremoniously dumping it. Rarity coughed into her palm, walking around the counter into clearer air, still trying to waft the offending scent away.

By Celestia, that had been vile! It was rotten eggs, it was refuse left out under the midday sun, it was the worst thing her nose had ever suffered and then some! Just thinking about the smell made her gorge want to rise, and her thoughts immediately turned suspicious – had someone sent that to her as a prank? Snips and Snails, maybe. Those two ruffians didn’t need an excuse to cause trouble…or perhaps the Flim Flam Brothers? She suspected they’d always been jealous of her success as a businesswoman, and this was just the sort of thing she could see them doing, maybe while having a little laugh over their supposed cleverness. Oh, she would find out, that was for sure, and when she did, she’d give the perpetrator a piece of her mind – but first, that candle was going straight into the garbage!

She was just about to start for the sink, with every intention of sweeping the candle up for a quick trip to the trash, when the front door tinkled open. Momentarily distracted, Rarity glanced that way in time to see Octavia stride inside, the sun sparkling off of her long curtain of raven-black hair. The earth pony looked around, spotting Rarity, a smile blooming on her muzzle as she made a beeline for her.

“Rarity, darling! It’s so wonderful to see y – my goodness, what is that?”

Octavia stopped dead in her tracks, nose wrinkling, and Rarity felt a sudden surge of embarrassment. Hastily, she flapped her hands in the general vicinity of where she’d lit the candle, trying to rid the area of the offending smell as quickly as possible.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Octavia, there was just a…I had a little…”

“Did you let some food sit too long?” Octavia asked, looking a little squeamish, and Rarity blushed, before throwing a look full of daggers at the sink.

“No, nothing like that,” she sighed. “I’m afraid someone decided to play a little prank on me – they sent me a terrible-smelling candle. Unfortunately I only found that out after I lit it…”

“That’s a terrible joke,” Octavia commiserated, shaking her head. “Do you know who sent it?”

“No, but rest assured, I’ll find out,” Rarity said, before smiling and doing her best to fall back into hostess mode. “But enough about my troubles – what can I do for you, dear?”

“Well, I had this idea for a performance night dress…”

The sun was starting to drop below the horizon by the time Rarity bolted the door, sighing with relief. Octavia had just been a taste of things to come; she’d had one of her busiest days in ages, taking six orders for new outfits and selling almost twice that! She was looking forward to a hot meal and a nice, relaxing soak in the tub, that was for sure. Blowing out a tired breath, she turned and looped around the counter for the final time that day, intending on retreating upstairs and not coming down again for the rest of the night – she deserved some her time!

Before she could mount the stairs, however, the mail caught her eye. Right…it had been so busy she hadn’t had time to actually go through it, and there it was, now perfectly dry and still sitting in the sink from this morning. Along with…the pegasus rolled her eyes, thrusting the candle to the side. She’d toss it in a second, once she got done going through the mail. Rarity shuffled quickly through the pile, mouthing along occasionally as she read. Nothing leapt out to her as terribly interesting, or needing her immediate attention, until she got to the very bottom of the pile.

It was an card, midnight blue with little sparkles of glitter, like stars, studded all over. She only needed a moment to recognize Princess Luna’s handiwork, and any doubts were dispelled when she flipped the card open to see the Princess’ elegant, curved handwriting, full of majestic loops and swirls and just generally very pleasant to look at. Smiling, looking past the beautiful craft to the message underneath it, Rarity read on.

Rarity,

Please accept this card as thanks for the wonderful gala dress you provided Us for last month’s Hearts and Hooves Ball. Words hardly seem adequate to describe its beauty, but We can assure you, every head in the royal ballroom turned at once when We made Our appearance. If it is agreeable, We would like to give Our thanks in person – high tea seems like a perfect time. Please reply with a date that works best for you.

Warmest regards,

Princess Luna

A warm surge of pride filled Rarity’s chest, and she couldn’t resist a girlish, excited giggle, clutching the card close to her chest as she an impromptu twirl of excitement. It was simply wonderful to received such high words of praise from one of the Princesses themselves, and it made all of the sleepless nights she’d spent, pondering, worrying, and working, completely worth it! She was about to rustle around for a pen, intent on writing an answer right away, when she reconsidered, staring out of the window with a slight frown.

No matter if she wrote a response now, or in the morning, it wouldn’t get sent off until Derpy came around for her mail run. And, if she held off, it gave her time to craft a proper, measured response, instead of the real danger of simply scribbling down fangirlish glee. Laughing and blushing, Rarity put the card down, shaking her head. Yes, morning would be soon enough to conjure up a suitable answer to the Princess’ invitation. Her business downstairs concluded, she turned to the stairs once again. This time, she made it a few steps in that direction before remembering that no, she wasn’t quite done.

Smile falling into a grimace, she pivoted back towards the sink, giving the abandoned, turned-over candle a hairy look indeed. Rarity reached out and scooped it up, holding it by her fingertips, as if afraid the stink of it would rub off on her. Carrying it over to the nearest trash can, she dangled it over the receptacle, intent on ridding herself of it once and for all.

Then she hesitated.

Maybe it was her good mood after receiving Luna’s words of thanks, maybe it was the memory of Derpy, dashing through the rain and mud to deliver this package to her, or maybe she was simply too trusting for her own good. Whatever it was, after a second of holding the candle threateningly over the nearly empty bin, Rarity relented, instead bundling it underneath her arm. She could give it a second chance. What was the harm? She could handle a few seconds’ worth of stench if it really was just a bad joke. Maybe, she thought as she ascended the stairs, that tumble had gotten some mud or other gunk on the candle that she just hadn’t seen, and it needed to be burned off before the real scent could shine through.

And if not, Rarity figured as she breezed into her large and luxurious bathroom, the trash can here had a lid. It would hold the foul odor in until she could dump the garbage completely later in the week.

Humming to herself, she set the candle on the counter. A few removed hairpins and strategic shakes of her head later, her voluminous purple mane came tumbling down – she liked to keep it up while working, otherwise it tended to fall in her eyes. She left the bathroom for her bedroom long enough to disrobe, carefully folding her blouse and pants over a chair to be put away later. Her heels she simply stepped out of on the way back to the bathroom. Too much of a lady to go nude even in her own house, Rarity sashayed across her hallway dressed only in tight, clingy purple lingerie – nudity might be a branch too far, but even a lady could enjoy a bit of teasing and lace.

She sat on the edge of the tub, cranking open the hot faucet and enjoying the clouds of steam that immediately billowed out to greet her. Slowly adding cool water to the mix, Rarity stabilized the water at just the right temperature before stopping the drain and leaving it to fill. Standing and padding back over to the counter, she looked at the candle before sighing. No more putting it off. It’s not like it was such of a much anyways, she reasoned, horn lighting blue again. Just light it, take a whiff, and then one way or the other, it’d done. A life-changing event, it wasn’t.

Grinning at her own foolishness, Rarity lit the candle.

At first, there was the slightest whiff of that evil stink again, and her nose wrinkled almost automatically. She was a hairsbreadth from snuffing the candle when she noticed that the stench, faint to begin with, was already fading. It seemed like she’d been right after all, there had just been some unidentifiable gunk lining the wick that had caused the terrible smell. Now, all she was smelling was the lightest tinge of smoke – not unpleasant, but she wondered if she’d gone through all this trouble for an unscented candle. Shaking her head, she was just about to turn back to the tub when something caught her eye, and she frowned.

Hadn’t the candle’s stripe been pink, before?

Before she could ponder that question further, a light, vagrant breeze – air sneaking in past the closed window, maybe – puffed around the bathroom, carrying the candle’s new scent in an aromatic cloud that caressed Rarity’s nose like a lover before slipping inside. Breathing in, any thought other than the heavenly perfume tickling her nostrils, curling down her throat, filling her lungs. It was warm butterscotch, left on the windowsill to catch the wafting wind. It was a bouquet of oranges, still rustling on their branches as she walked through the orchard. It was fresh, laundered fabric, just out of the box and ready to be crafted underneath her talented hands.

Muzzle parting slightly, breathing through both her nose and mouth to scoop in just a little more of the candle’s fragrance, Rarity arrived at a word that summed it up nicely – exquisite.

Giggling to herself, she leaned in close, heaving in a great breath and simply luxuriating in the aroma as it pervaded her being. And of course she’d been wrong about the candle, she knew that now. The stripe had always been white, a creamy, ivory color just like her fur and flanks! Surrounded as it was by that deep, rich purple, Rarity now knew that whatever mishap might have occurred with the label or the fall or the original stench, this candle had been meant for her. She was doubly regretful, now, that she had no idea who sent it. Whoever designed this wonderful scent for her simply must be thanked as soon as possible!

Maybe Derpy will have an idea, she thought, straightening. The room wobbled slightly, and she stumbled on her hooves – she must be more tired than she thought. Taking slow, careful steps, Rarity crossed back to the tub, sitting on the edge and trailing a hand in the water. It was at the perfect temperature, and she gave it a few seconds more before shutting off the taps, enjoying the last few ripples running across the surface of the water as it stilled. She lifted her rump just enough to loosen her panties, and slid them down and off, daintily placing them across the toilet seat. Reaching behind her back, she deftly unhooked her bra, sighing with relief as it came loose. The straps came down as her hands went around the front, and she caught her brassiere expertly before setting it neatly with her panties.

That done, she indulged in a sitting stretch before getting into the water. One hand went straight up, fingers extending, clutching at nothing as she worked the kinks out of her back. The other, more than a little naughtily, swung much lower, spidering up her stomach and sending a pleasant little shiver through her body. It journeyed upwards, momentarily making contact with the underside of her breast, before jumping to the other side, not content to leave one of her tits bereft of –

Her thoughts stuttered, and Rarity froze mid-stretch.

Tits?

Where had such an…an uncouth word come from? Mortified despite there being no one else around, a light blush touching her white-furred cheeks, Rarity lowered both of her arms, keeping them resolutely locked to her thighs. She was a lady, by Equestria, and even in private – even in the enormous privacy of her own head! – it had been drilled in that a lady never stooped to such language, such thoughts. It was simply unbecoming, and she had half a mind to…

A curl of candle smoke, carrying with it that heady, fascinating aroma, wafted over to her. She sniffed self-importantly, absorbed in her recriminatory thinking, and the smoke disappeared into her nostrils. The effect was immediate. Rarity paused again, less frozen than uncertain, her train of thought not derailing but coming to a screeching halt. For a moment she wondered what had gotten her so worked up, then she started, gasping slightly.

Looking down, she saw her hand had crept back upwards again. It was curled, curved, lying flat along her tummy but further upward cupping her…cupping her…her tit.

Rarity giggled. Well, why wouldn’t it be? She’d had a long, stressful day, after all, and letting off a little steam wasn’t against any rules she was aware of. And, on top of all that, she was alone. Who was there to know if this lady engaged in a little behavior of a blue nature? There wasn’t any harm in indulging herself, just this once. Plus, it gave her a little thrill, imagining the shocked, scandalized looks on her high-society friends’ faces…or even her mother’s and father’s, to hear her using such language.

Tits. Celestia, she loved her tits.

Sighing softly, one hand committed to fondling her rack, Rarity turned herself enough to simply slide into the tub and felt the warm water wash over her. She stretched to her fullest, her long, strong legs nearly reaching the opposite end of the tub. Resting her head against a special pillow she kept just for long, steamy baths, she giggled, more than a little arousal leaking into her laughter as she continued to play with her tits. Occasionally, they lent themselves to more back pain than she really wanted, and publicly, she might commiserate about them with other mares…but in secret, in private, Rarity absolutely loved having big, squeezable boobs.

Grinning, she did just that, bringing her other hand into play and mashing them into her tits, distending the flesh, loving the way it bulged and slipped through her fingers. Each movement was a whisper of pleasure, her smooth, silky titflesh practically singing with ecstasy as she groped herself. Groaning softly to herself, Rarity let her breasts free to bounce and jiggle on her chest as they settled, contenting herself with tweaking and flicking her quickly stiffening, coral-pink nipples. Watching her sizable chest ripple, undulating with sensuous, pleasant motion, she nodded, as satisfied as she ever was with their heft.

Of her closest friends, only Applejack was bigger – the farm pony might as well be smuggling watermelons under her shirts! An exaggeration, maybe, but not a very big one. After all, Rarity was the one who’d had to help her custom order bras for those enormous…enormous…

Jugs, she thought with a lewd little chuckle, savoring both the warm embrace of the bathwater and the steady flow of the candle’s heavenly scent, sliding into her nose breath by increasingly quicker, shallower breath.

And hardly anypony in town out-breasted her either, Rarity added to her mental inventory. She was easily in the top percentiles of titflesh in Ponyville – maybe even in Canterlot too!

Not in the Everfree, though, she conceded with a little pout. She swore that Zecora was plumping up her own figure with some of that zebra magic she knew…

She breathed in again, and now she could almost taste the candle. It was like a warm apple pie was baking on her counter, and now a slice of that pie was simply wafting over to her along with its own scent. Rarity’s eyes slid halfway shut as she imagined that pie coming slowly closer, starting to salivate, her muzzle yawning open. Another potent lungful, and imagined crisp crust and soft, gooey apples simply sliding down her throat, a rich explosion of aroma and flavor all tied together and goodness! That pie was warm…no, it wasn’t warm. It was hot.

And it was making her hot, too.

She could feel the warmth of the water surrounding her, but that was only skin-deep. And it wasn’t the sort of heat that made her sweat, either, as her still-dry forehead and perfectly coiffed hair attested to. This was a different heat. A spark that had caught some dry tinder on the inside, and was well on its way towards becoming a merrily blazing inferno. As soon as she realized it, the fire doubled – tripled – quadrupled, and Rarity gasped, a flush coming to her cheeks. She fought for her next breath, a deep, slow inhale, meant to steady her. Along with a gratifying rush of air, she got a heaping helping of the candle’s mellifluousness, and the scent had no sooner entered her lungs than she felt the effects. Rarity grunted, a low, surprised sound, her entire body twitching as though she’d been kicked. A ripple ran right from her suddenly curling hooves all the way to the tips of her ears, the slight twitching dislodging the first strands of her purple hair. Her eyes, normally a sharp, piercing blue, were suddenly glazed and dazed as she stared at the water between her legs.

A lone bubble appeared, lingering for just a moment before popping.

A second later, a single long streamer of femcum, off-white and opaque, floated to the surface.

Rarity watched it meander aimlessly, stunned and confused.

When in the name of Celestia did she get this worked up?

Another heaving, gasping breath and the scent of the candle assuaged her worries, told her it didn’t matter. She was simply horny, that was all. Not worked up, not frustrated, not in need of some discreet alone time. Horny. That was alright, Rarity thought. Ladies sometimes got horny. Everyone did – it was natural. From ladies and women to gentlemen and common stallions…but especially good mares.

Good mares were always horny. And good mares knew how to take care of their arousal.

Rarity’s first moan was soft, fleeting, and nearly unregistered by her conscious mind as her hands disappeared under the surface of the water. The ripples that their passage kicked up lapped over her thighs and toes; she felt the smallest eddy caress her vagina, and she shuddered even before her hands managed to make it to the juncture of her legs. Swimming slowly, almost in a stately manner through the water, her left hand, always her weaker, alighted on her thigh, rubbing in slow, small circles. Rarity’s right hand dipped lower, sliding in short butterfly strokes through the water, cutting through small but billowing clouds of her femcum, drooling from her wet, heated slit.

She could feel the warmth radiating out from her marehood even through the warm water, and the closer her fingers got, the more she suddenly needed it. Needed what? She didn’t know for sure. Pleasure, obviously. But more than that. She needed…

Rarity gasped, another great breath of incense sliding down her throat, filling her lungs, clouding her senses. Somewhere, as if from a huge distance, she heard the faint, wee sound of glass. Cracking. Splitting. Faults spiderwebbing along its surface – her surface – the scent burrowing deeper, seeping through the cracks and making her realize –

She needed to be fucked.

The felling of another barrier was accompanied by a sudden, intense spike of pleasure. Rarity shrieked, a completely unladylike sound, as her fingers jabbed forward, two of them piercing her entrance and jamming themselves deep with no warning. The white-furred mare bit her tongue, desperate to keep the noise down, even as she thrashed in the tub, water flying wildly in every direction and slopping over the sides onto the floor. It was irrational – she didn’t even have neighbors close enough to hear her – but it was a last shred of decorum to hold onto, a last handhold after she found herself slipping so far, so suddenly.

It wasn’t helping much, though. As if they hand a mind of her own, her fingers probed deeper, swimming through her depths as easily as they had the water. Rarity moaned helplessly, her thighs squeezing together, trapping her hand, pushing it deeper and deeper. There was a bright bolt of ecstasy, and she arched her back clear out of the water, back and breasts dripping freely before she collapsed back with a gigantic splash. Her other hand had sneaked its way through the barrier of her thighs, and tweaked her clit; before she could recover, it happened again, and Rarity whinnied, high and needy. Her nipples throbbed, making her wish she could sprout another hand, but for the moment, they would have to go without.

The hand at her clit moved again, the ball of her thumb ghosting over the engorged, ruby-red bulb. She whimpered, her thighs clenching sympathetically, a third digit somehow managing to worm its way past her clenching, spasming lips to join its sisters. Then her free hand swept back up, trapping her clit between the seemingly infinite plain at the end of her thumb, and the dainty, dexterous point of her index finger…

…and squeezed.

Rarity’s world broke apart into shining, glittering fragments of thought and sensation. Dimly, she was aware she was literally screeching with rapture, the sound echoing off of the tiled bathroom walls, but she couldn’t have stopped if she tried. Her limbs were disconnected from her brain, her hands still following their own whims, plunging and tweaking and fucking her in all of the most wonderful ways. Her hard, keratin-laced toes curled in on themselves, nails scraping over each other. Her legs alternated between seizing completely and kicking with wild abandon, the fact that her tub didn’t quite reach the walls the only thing that saved her from denting and smashing the tasteful backsplash lining them.

Images swam in front of her eyes while her brain drowned in a tide of bliss. Stallions, a lifetime’s worth, what seemed like every male she knew flipping before her eyes. Now it was Big Mac, a forbidden crush that she could never act on due to Applejack’s friendship. Now it was Spike, older but still far too young, too inexperienced. Now it was Soarin, virile and agile, but too cocky, too selfsure to possibly be an attentive lover…

Irritation, low and heavy, rumbled through her mind like thunder. They were all wrong! None of them could bring the same level of pleasure her own hands, her own fingers could. Of course they couldn’t – they didn’t know her. Didn’t know how to please a lady, a woman, a good mare. Good mares knew how to please themselves, it was true, but that got lonely sometimes. Even good mares needed company, and the only company that was necessary…the only ones who knew how to please mares were…

Her brain stuttered, fighting the connection. Rarity’s fingers faltered, red-hot arousal beginning to cool into dark, frantic confusion. What was she doing? What was she thinking? These thoughts, these actions, they weren’t hers, were they? She needed a minute. To stop and think, a minute without the ceaseless assault of her fingers, grinding against her sensitive spot; without her clit throbbing underneath the sensual rubbing of her thumb; without the insistent, almost painful throb of her nipples, stiffer than they had ever been, begging for attention. Drawing in a shaky, shuddering breath, Rarity let her feet slip into the water, trying to gather them to stand up.

Her thighs shifted. Her hand, jostled by the small movement, slipped, still buried in her marehood.

Directly over a hidden patch of flesh, buried high and deep. Close enough that she felt the sudden stimulation in her womb, an electric shock blasting straight up her spine to inundate her brain, melting scattered, spurious thoughts of resistance in an instant.

Rarity collapsed back into the tub, her rump and legs impacting hard enough to force a surprised breath from her chest. She heaved instinctively, trying to reclaim it – and the candle’s scent rushed in, pouring into her lungs, her brain, throwing her back into a soupy fog of arousal.

Mares filled her eyes and her brain. Mares of all shapes and sizes. Tall, statuesque earth ponies, toned muscles subtly chiseled into their forms, enough to stand out but not enough to draw all attention to them. Slim, lithe pegasi, with large wingspans and larger tits, spreading everything for Rarity to ogle and salivate over. Powerful unicorns, horns blazing with magic, proudly baring erect nipples and damp, dripping marehoods to her.

This last especially drew her attention, and all of Rarity’s other fantasies blew away to focus on the unicorn in front of her. Her slick, heated slit was framed by a dewy, thin patch of cobalt blue fur…or perhaps it was darker? Midnight blue? Rarity couldn’t tell, had no head for those details right now. She simply leaned closed, hypnotized by the subtly swinging marehood in front of her. As she watched, drooling, licking her lips, a single drip of her juices beaded on the unicorn’s lips.

Shuddered.

Ran down one of those beautiful, pouting petals.

Juddered.

Dripped, falling straight down, and Rarity’s tongue poked out, wishing it was real, wishing it was falling towards her tongue, wishing she could fall to her knees and lap at that c -

Her mind balked.

That cu –

A distant, easily ignored scream.

That cun –

She inhaled deeply, a greedy, gulping breath.

That cunt.

Her fingers drove deeper at the realization. Mares could please mares. They were the only true pleasure a mare could find. Stallions were forever relegated to second-class lovers, incompetent at best, an option in desperation but otherwise completely unworthy of her pussy. Her soaking, sopping snatch. Rarity worked her digits as deep as she could get them, prying her lower lips apart far enough to force a fourth inside of her – it was more wonderfully filling that any lowly, unimportant cock could ever be. Stallions had no place in between her legs. Good mares pleased each other. Good mares knew the ins and out, the twists and turns, the contours of a mare’s body like a stallion never could.

And only good mares would ever grace her cunt again.

Rarity peaked as she realized that final, ultimate truth, letting out a whinnying shriek that caused the window to rattle in its frame. The water level began to drop dangerously low as she thrashed and writhed, soaking the bathroom in a thin layer of water shot through with copious amounts of her femcum. The unicorn absolutely gushed, feeling a tidal wave of thick, boiling femcum rush down her clenching, grasping tunnel. Her digits, thoroughly soaked already, received a further wetting, totally saturated and unable to absorb more. The rest ran down her thighs, mixing with the water being flung about, streaks and droplets managing against all odds to stay nestled in her thick, luxurious thigh fur. The smell of sex, potent, desirable, feminine, surrounded her.

Rarity wallowed in it, happily.

In a blank, horny daze, she rose. Her eyes were glazed over, dull, the spark of self-awareness that normally lit them almost completely absent. Swaying slightly, femcum and water dripping in equal amounts, she stepped out of the tub onto the drenched carpet. Her movement were at once stiff and wobbly, her legs threatening to collapse from her potent orgasm, but she managed to stay upright. Moving mechanically, she took up her towel, passing it perfunctorily over her fur, her hair, her long, flowing tail. She dried herself just enough not to drip everywhere, leaving her fur and hair to clump and frizz, sticking out crazily in ways that would have horrified her conscious mind.

Tossing the towel negligently away, the unicorn also completely ignored her underwear. Slowly, reverently, she gathered the still-burning candle in her hands, holding it in front of her as a supplicant would a holy chalice. With slow, shuffling steps, she left the bathroom, nude, still dripping the occasional drip as she went. Not all of the droplets were water, and the scent of her still-needy, still-hot pussy followed her, drifting lazily through the hallway and clinging to every surface as it went.

Rarity entered her bedroom. The chair with her clothes was ignored. So was her bed. She went to the exact center of the room and knelt. Gingerly, she set the candle down. Then she stood and backed away three steps. She looked down at the candle. Fixed its dancing, flickering wick firmly in her gaze. Then she closed her eyes, and counted silently to ten.

Good mare.

The words of praise, soft, smoky, and sexy, made her whimper, a dull pulse of arousal flushing through her pussy. The soft patter of femcum dripping to the carpet filled her ears.

Open your eyes.

Rarity did, and beheld a wonder.

A mare was standing where the candle had been, wearing a dress of unearthly beauty. It rustled with the slow, steady movements of the mare’s breathing, the sound of silk rubbing against itself reaching Rarity’s ears. The dress’ base color was a light, sky blue – jagged streaks of alternating white and gold wrapped upwards from the waist in ascending rings. It clung like a second skin to the mare’s deep blue fur, the light and dark shades providing perfect contrast to one another. The neckline was cut low; improperly so – almost impossibly so. The mystery mare’s tits were nearly on full display, close to half of their full round peeking out from either side of the neckline, and when she shifted, Rarity could almost…almost catch a glimpse of a dusky blue nipple.

Her mouth watered, just thinking about those nipples.

A sparkle of light dragged her gaze away – lower.

The dress was studded with sparkling gemstones, clear, circle-cut affectations that Rarity’s practiced eye immediately identified as quartz. They glimmered with every movement, both from the relatively dull light of the bedroom reflecting off of them, and for another reason.

Centered in each gemstone was the candle’s flame.

It flickered at her from a hundred different points, beckoning her in, drawing her deeper into its hypnotic dance. Rarity went willingly. There was barely enough of her conscious mind left at this point to keep her standing upright, let alone resist the candle’s – no. Not the candle’s. The mare’s spell. She understood that now, and the idea crystallized as she swayed in place, legs still wobbling, her hands clenching and twitching spasmodically at her sides. The mare had sent her the candle. Had cast the spell. Had captured her, effortlessly. She listened for her voice in the candle’s flame, and followed its instructions mindlessly.

Down.

Rarity looked lower, and a tiny, gasping moan escaped her muzzle. More guttering quartz flared here, an arch of them bending in a gentle arc over the flare of the skirt. The skirt itself was a marvel of high-low fashion; the back trailed all the way to the floor in a luxurious train, covered from stem to stern in the mesmerizing affectations. A broad band of gold cut an imperious swath right down the middle of the train, a further arrow-straight line of quartz demanding Rarity’s gaze. And she might have given it, happily lost in the seductive, glinting frames, if her eyes didn’t fall on the front of the skirt first, stopping dead in their tracks.

If the plunging neckline was improper, the front-facing portion of the skirt was simply scandalous. It rose higher and higher as the fabric swooped around the mare’s legs and hips, unstoppably so, an acre of plush blue fur and long, smooth legs bared to Rarity’s – and indeed, anyone else’s – gaze. Her eyes followed the rise of the skirt as it crawled up the mare’s thighs, delectable glimpses of succulent flesh calling out to Rarity to taste, to touch, to worship. And still the skirt rose, Rarity’s gaze sliding from thigh to crotch, her breath catching in a strangled gasp.

Framed perfectly underneath the barest scrap of fabric were the mare’s panties, surrounded by the softest, silkiest fur yet. The skirt hid nothing, the mare’s pussy brazenly on display if not for the thin blue lace of her underwear. Drooling openly now, Rarity couldn’t help but notice that the lace wasn’t pristine. It was stained, dampened by the mare’s juices. She swore she could see it spreading while she watched, more and more femcum dripping out to stain those beautiful undergarments, slowly but surely ruining them in the most obscene – not to mention exhilarating – manner Rarity could imagine.

Kneel.

Rarity obeyed without question, hitting the ground with an hard, uncontrolled thump. She barely noticed, her eyes glued on the mare’s slickening crotch. Just above the spreading dampness was the biggest quartz yet, practically the size of a robin’s egg, and Rarity’s eyes couldn’t decide which sight to land on. They flicked back and forth desperately, from flame to cunt and back again, and in her mind, she heard cruel, domineering laughter.

What are you?

“A good mare,” Rarity whispered.

And what do good mares do?

“Good mares…obey.”

Good mares obey their Mistress.

“Mistress…?” This was new, and Rarity’s brain was not in the shape for new ideas. Her eyes, blank, glazed, dulled, tried to tilt upwards, to look at the mare’s face. Before she could do much more than attempt this, she felt a hand twine itself through her mussed mane. It yanked her gaze back downwards, and Rarity whickered with surprise and discomfort. She tried to look up again and received the same treatment; getting the message, she kept her head still. At least now she knew where to look – the only place she could, and she simply stared, drinking in the sight of the mare’s cunt continuing to leak all over her tightly snug panties.

Mistress. The one who sent you the candle.

“I don’t know…” The hand yanked again.

Speak only when given permission. That’s what good mares do.

Rarity almost opened her muzzle to speak, but at the last minute, managed to contain herself. Instead, she only nodded.

You see the flame. Where?

“In front of me,” Rarity breathed, eyes flicking back up for the barest moment before resettling on the mare’s quim. “All around me. On you.”

Who controls the flame?

“You do,” Rarity said. Even to her sluggish mind, it seemed self-evident. The next part did as well. “You control the candle.”

Expectant silence.

“You control me.”

Excellently reasoned, my good mare, the voice purred, and Rarity shuddered again. A helpless moan tumbled from her lips, her pussy spasming, a fresh trickle of femcum joining the rivulets still coursing down her thighs and legs.

Demonstrate your obedience.

A pause, then, in a tone that dripped with arousal…

Service Mistress’ pussy.

Rarity didn’t need to be told twice. Inhibitions and inclinations long since overridden, swept away by scent, flame, and voice, she scooted forward on her knees, nestling her face and muzzle between her Mistress’ smooth, powerful thighs. She nuzzled forward, heated breaths washing over the moist panties and dripping cunt in front of her, and from above, she felt Mistress shiver. Heard her sigh. The hand in her hair pushed, gently this time, urging her onwards.

Rarity tucked her nose down, sliding it along the smooth, soaked lace. She caught the edge of Mistress’ panties in her teeth, and peeled them to the side delicately. Muffled groans echoed into Mistress’ pussy as she saw streamers of her femcum cling to the panties, stretch past their breaking point, droop and break in order to drip downwards. Those droplets rained down on blue fur and blue lace as blue eyes feasted hungrily on every alluring detail of the slick, steaming snatch being revealed to her.

She let the panties go, and before they could snap back pushed her muzzle forward. The tip of her nose made contact with those heated folds. Mistress moaned, needy urgency melting into her commandeering tone, and Rarity keened alongside her. The cunt before her eyes was simply divine, puffy petals pouting as they opened in response to stimulation, little rivers of feminine passion pouring down their sides.

The air was thick with the scent of arousal, powerfully feminine.

Closing her eyes, Rarity let her lips part, and her tongue poke forward.

Mistress’ moans ringing in her ears, she began to feast, her submission deepening with every lick.

Wearing only a cape, Rarity’s Mistress stood in the center of a darkened room.

There was no need to be quiet – this was an isolated, warded place – and she didn’t even try, pleasured cries erupting from her throat while her hips bucked and gyrated. One hand was held in front of her, as if cupping something. She curled those fingers, feeling Rarity’s gloriously soft, purple hair slip through them as she tightened her grip, pushing the mesmerized mare deeper into her pussy. Femcum ran in a torrent from between her legs, a sizable puddle already forming underneath her, the soft pattering of more being added all the time harmonizing with her moans.

Rarity might not be physically present, but thanks to the spell she’d cast, that didn’t matter one bit.

Opening her eyes, she cast a glance at the table next to her. Aside from a merrily bubbling cauldron, filled nearly to the brim with a thick, pink liquid, the table – her worktable – was the only other object in the room. When she was plotting, really plotting, she liked to keep it simple in terms of her tools. And accomplished sorceresses really didn’t need anything more than a good, sturdy cauldron and a clear worktable to succeed, she thought cockily.

Rarity’s tongue, jammed deep into her cunt, rasped suddenly over a particularly sensitive patch of flesh, as if to punctuate the thought. A dominant cry of pleasure rang out through the room, the sorcerous mare thoroughly enjoying the fruits of her labor.

Six colored pendants – purple, blue, yellow, white, orange, and pink – hung from pegs, hastily pounded into a shelf attached to the back of the table. Each was in the shape of a shooting star. The white pendant was glowing faintly. With every moan that echoed around the room, every jolt of her hips or deep, shuddering swipe of Rarity’s tongue, it brightened. Soon, it would settle around the white-furred unicorn’s neck, solidifying her hold. These were powerful charms, but they couldn’t ensnare ponies, only strengthen control that already existed. That was why she had needed the candle.

True, it hadn’t made it to its intended recipient. It was supposed to be Twilight, not the fashionista, whose tongue she was riding right now, whose mind she would continue to melt and shape over the coming weeks, whose willing help she could use in bringing down the rest of the arrogant, superior so-called Elements of Harmony. And they would only be the beginning – with Twilight at her side, an obedient, mindless slave, she had imagined knocking down the front doors of Canterlot Castle and asserting her authority over those wretched Princesses. After turning the mares of their beloved Ponyville and beyond against them, of course…

There was no reason that couldn’t still happen. It had taken a bit of quick thinking on her part to fix the candle – the original magic had been meant for Twilight, after all, and wouldn’t have done anything to Rarity…except possibly give her a headache. But she’d been keeping close tabs on her delivery, and as soon as she saw it had ended up in the boutique instead of the library…well, it had been close, but she’d managed it. It hadn’t captured Rarity as completely as it would have, if it had been intended for her all along, but this was just the first of many sessions.

By the end of the week, she was confident the fashion-obsessed “lady” currently tongue-fucking her would be well and truly in hoof.

And then…

She grinned maliciously, free hand rising to her neck. A seventh pendant hung there, just above her bared breasts, jostling with each movement.

This star was red. It matched the glow of her eyes as she exerted her will over Rarity.

The entranced mare, miles distant, interrupted her Mistress’ self-congratulatory thoughts by plunging her tongue deep, curling it, edges and tip and everything in between hitting spots that she hadn’t even known existed before just now.

Rarity shifted her muzzle slightly – expertly – and her nose rubbed over the shiny red bulb of her Mistress’ clit.

As she climaxed, shrieking in ecstasy and drenching Rarity’s muzzle with the first of many, many orgasms to come, a single thought ran through her mind.

Revenge is a dish best served hot…